The Time Imperative
by Misako
Summary: Harry, Hermione and Draco are forced to endure each other for a project – but when a curse is unleashed, they must work together to find a way to escape it – before it claims their lives.
1. Ventum France

The Time Imperative

_Chapter One – Ventum France_

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**Title**: The Time Imperative (1/13)

**Author** **Name**: Misako

**Author** **Email**: cleopatra0705@yahoo.com

**Category**: Action/ romance 

**Keywords**: Draco Hermione Harry Time Travel

**Rating**: R

**Spoilers**: PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, FB, QTTA 

**Summary**: Harry, Hermione and Draco are forced to endure each other for a project – but when a curse is unleashed, they must work together to find a way to escape it – before it claims their lives.

**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Other citations will be provided at the beginning or end of chapters, where needed. 

**Author's Note**: This fic begins in their sixth year (around September 1996). Being a member of the HP fandom since July of 2000, I'm finally writing the colossal fic I promised myself I'd write. I hope you enjoy it!

Special thanks to: **Winged Elf** (my marvelous beta!), **Karei** (for being so supportive and just an all around great person), **Cassie**, **Lori**, and **AngieJ** for writing such marvelous fics – I aspire to write as well as you guys do, and I hope this turns out well!, to **MelissaD** (for your fantastic WAHP that really made me get off my butt to write a potential D/Hr fic!), **Plu** and **Heidi** (**Heidi** for putting up with my randomness on my LJ, and I believe, the first person of the HP fandom to add me to her "friends" list on LJ – much to my surprise and happiness, and to **Plu** for just being there for me since we got to know each other at FF a while ago.) 

On with it – enjoy, and review please. :)

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_The Time Imperative_

Chapter One: Ventum France 

Draco Malfoy was daydreaming. Professor Binns's monotonous voice had lulled him nearly to sleep, and thankfully, the professor remained unaware that the blond Slytherin was drifting off. He was fairly sure that he'd seen Harry Potter drop his head onto his desk a while ago, and even the normally alert Hermione Granger was propping her head up on her arm. In fact, he was fairly sure that the majority of the Gryffindor-Slytherin joint History of Magic class was either daydreaming or sleeping. 

_Does Professor Binns realize his class is where narcolepsy originates_? Draco mused, smiling cynically.

"Class," Professor Binns said, and Draco opened his eyes. "Dumbledore has suggested that a group project be assigned for the duration of the time between now and the end of the first term. This gives you 3 months to complete the project."

Draco noticed that Hermione was now sitting upright and gazing eagerly at the professor. He narrowed his eyes. _What project? Professor Binns has never given a project before_. He eyed Professor Binns suspiciously. 

Professor Binns continued, "Each group will consist of three group members. The groups are as follows," he began to read off a parchment that he had retrieved off his desk. 

Draco listened for his name to be read in conjunction with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, or perhaps even Pansy Parkinson or Blaise Zabini, but he had not been placed with them.

Professor Binns finally neared the end of the list. "Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter."

Draco leapt up, indignant, "I can't work with them, Professor!"

Professor Binns eyed him, "Why not, Mr.what's your name again?"

Draco glowered. "Draco Malfoy."

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," he looked at his list again. "And you're with Miss Granger and Mr. Potter." 

Draco glared. "I realize that."

"And you say you can't work with them?" Professor Binns frowned, making the deep wrinkles in his translucent skin even more prominent. "Why not?"

"Becausethey're Gryffindors and I'm in Slytherin!" Draco searched for a response that would sound credible to the old professor.

"Yes. Meaning they're far too good for you." Ron Weasley muttered from his seat next to Harry. Draco turned and fixed the red-haired Gryffindor with a searing glare.

"Yes. And that is precisely why I put you three together. Now, sit down, Mr. Malfoy. I have to finish informing your classmates of their groups and explain the project." 

Draco remained standing for a moment, but finally sat down. He glanced over at Hermione and Harry, and noticed that both looked as if they had just been caught in their own personal rainstorm complete with thunder and lightning. Draco crossed his arms and slid down lower in his seat as Professor Binns began to tell the class what project they were doing.

"You will be doing projects on several different subjects. See me after class to find out your assigned subject," Professor Binns began, his tone as colourless as he was. "You will have 3 months to complete your project. The project itself will consist of several items. First, you must complete a written section, and then you must present your findings to your classmates in an oral report," he continued, pacing from left to right and steepling his fingers. "You will be evaluated by the work you produce, and also the collective work of the group." 

Hermione's hand shot into the air. 

"Yes, Miss Granger?" 

"Is it possible to get extra credit on this assignment?" Hermione asked, appearing excited.

"Only if warranted. That by itself will be difficult." Professor Binns answered, giving his eager student an appraising eye.

Draco started as a piece of parchment landed on his desk. He grasped it with long, slender fingers, opening the folded paper as carefully as he could.

His silvery eyes hardened as he read the note. 

_Malfoy – Library, after dinner tonight. Be there, or I will search you out and hex you until you are permanently brain-damaged._

_Harry_

Turning in his seat, he caught the emerald irises of his Gryffindor rival, and glared. Harry just stared back, the gaze challenging. Draco heaved a sigh and turned back around in his seat, resigning himself to the annoyance that the next three months would bring.

***

Hermione and Harry promptly marched up to Professor Binns's desk after class, where the professor sat, presenting students with their assigned subjects. Draco followed slowly, deliberately pausing after stuffing his quill and ink back into his black Boach schoolbag. 

"Hurry up, Malfoy." Harry's voice hissed as he turned to look at his lingering classmate.

"You can wait, Potter." Draco answered disdainfully, raising a pale blond eyebrow at the ebony-haired teen and straightening out the sleeves of his school robe. 

Harry tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for Draco to approach the desk. Hermione was leaning over and asking Professor Binns a question when Draco finally reached the desk. 

"Any longer, and I'd have mistaken you for a snail," she shot at him without even turning to look. 

Draco glared at her turned back, "Any longer, and you all would've died, much to my excitement." 

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry argued, his fingers grazing the wand in his pocket. "I want to find out what we're supposed to do."

"Yes, Goody-Two Shoes Gryffindor," Draco muttered under his breath, but listened for the assignment. 

Professor Binns cleared his throat and looked down at the parchment with the assignments on his desk. He ran a wrinkled index finger down the list until he came upon their names, "You three will be doing the History of Magic in 18th Century France', with emphasis on the period before the French Revolution."

"Now that that's finished," Draco said, running a hand through his pale blond hair. "I'm leaving." Before anyone could object, he strode out of the classroom, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him. 

***

Draco ate his dinner slowly, taking bits and pieces of his Chicken Scandal, and every once in a while glancing over to the Gryffindor table to see whether Harry and Hermione had finished their dinners. He frowned as they stood up, ready to leave. Draco swore under his breath. He'd been hoping that their classmates would delay their progress, but, as Draco rationalized, it must've been because they were Gryffindors. Harry turned and shot Draco a pointed look as he left the hall. Draco watched as Harry left with Hermione trailing closely behind.

"Draco, is anything wrong? You've barely touched your dinner," Pansy's high, whining voice interrupted and Draco turned to look at her. She was entirely unpleasant – sallow skinned, with a positively horrible overbite and curly hair – except for her deep, forest green Craba robes. 

"No. I'm just not hungry," Draco replied, giving Pansy a sickeningly sweet smile. His father, Lucius, had always instructed that it was prudent to remain familial with other Slytherin children.

"Oh," Pansy responded, giving Draco a sympathetic pat on the arm and a toothy smile as she turned back to her own dish. Her nose wrinkled as she prodded something on her plate. "It's positively horrible, the food," she sniffed disdainfully. Draco could see other Slytherins nodding in agreement. She turned to him once again. "Don't you agree?"

"Yes, it is," Draco replied as he stood up from the table. "I have to work on that history project now."

Pansy prevented him from leaving as she threw her arms around his waist. Draco fought the urge to wince and immediately wished for dry cleaners for his Tersace robes. "Oh, Draco, I'm so sorry you were put with Potty and that mudblood," she seemed close to tears.

Draco detached her arms from around his waist and gingerly patted her head. He made a mental note to wash his hands as soon as he left. Flashing her a saccharine sweet smile, he stalked from the table and out the doors before heading for the nearest loo.

***

Hermione returned from the library stacks, her arms laden with large volumes gifted with such bland titles as: Magic in the 18th century and Magic in France. Harry jumped as she unceremoniously dumped the pile before him onto the table.

"I can't believe we're stuck with Malfoy," Harry shook his head, narrowing his eyes. "This must be Professor Binns's idea of a joke."

"I agree. But I want to get a good grade, it's important you know, so we just have to work together." Hermione replied as she sat down across from Harry, grabbing Magic in France. 

Harry groaned, paging through his book and not quite paying attention as to what it described. "But he's MALFOY."

"And I'm sure he would want as good a grade as we do, so he'll just have to put up with us and vice versa." Hermione replied, glancing up from her book just as Draco strode through the large oak doors, his schoolbag slung over his right shoulder.

"Potter, Granger," Draco said as he slipped into a chair at the head of the table, dropping his schoolbag on the floor. 

Hermione spoke before Harry could open his mouth. "Here – read this." She handed Draco Magic in the 18th Century. Draco grasped the book she held in her hand and placed it before him. 

"No instructions, Granger?" Draco questioned, his lips curling into a smirk.

"No," she replied shortly. "Just read itand remember the information." she added hastily, sure that Draco would merely page through the book without absorbing a single consonant.

"That's an instruction." Draco replied bluntly, his lips pressed in a thin line.

"Fine. I don't care what you call it, just read the book." Hermione glanced at him before returning to her own book. 

Only five minutes had passed before Draco spoke up again.

"This is a waste of time," Draco complained, idly flipping through several pages.

"Malfoy, you know that big hole in your face? Shut it." Harry snapped, looking up from his book that he'd been trying to bury himself in and ignore Draco. 

"That's original, Potter," Draco replied snidely, glaring at the ebony-haired boy.

"Malfoy." Hermione ground out, teeth clenched. She refused to look up from her book. "I want a good grade. And if you haven't noticed, this is a GROUP grade – and you, unfortunately, are in our group. If you don't work, I'll just have to send an owl to your father about how much this affects your grade. I know he isn't satisfied with your current performance."

Draco didn't reply. He glared at her, but she refused to look at him. (Steely death-glares don't work on hair!) For the rest of the research session, their table was blissfully silent.

***

"Someone should've hexed him," Ron stated, gesturing wildly with his right hand. Hermione shrank away from his waving arm and shook her head as she walked with Ron and Harry to their Potions class – a double-class again with the Slytherins. Ron had been lucky to escape History of Magic with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan as his group members – both were fellow Gryffindors. 

"No, it's not right to provoke him," Hermione said, directing a pointed look at both Harry and Ron.

"But he was being an arsehole!" Ron protested vehemently, this time gesturing with his left and nearly hitting Harry in the face, who grabbed Ron's arm before it made contact. "Sorry Harry." Ron apologized and Harry released his arm. 

"Herm, I'm sorry, but I'll have to agree with Ron – Malfoy was being an insufferable git as usual," Harry acknowledged, pushing his glasses back up on his nose with his right hand. "And he's a prefect, like you - he should know better." Harry added. 

Hermione had to peer around Ron to see Harry – Ron was exceptionally tall, if still lanky. "Yes, but you two were bickering as if you were both seven years old. For god's sake, you're both sixteen! It's time to grow up!" she chastised. "And Harry, you could've been prefect if you hadn't turned it down – I still think you should've accepted." 

Harry regarded her with a small smile, which made him appear more youthful. "Thanks, Herm. But you know my schedule's too busy to fit in prefect duties as well. Besides, it's not as if you didn't throw a few barbs of your own," he commented, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at Hermione.

Hermione grinned. "Well, it got him to shut up, didn't it?"

Harry didn't reply. They'd reached the Potions classroom.

***

_Potions with the Gryffindorsagain._ Draco shook his head angrily. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had walked in a moment ago, and had taken their seats on the side of the classroom. Draco had already occupied his usual seat in the front, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. He leaned his head back and extended his long legs in front of him into the aisle, crossed at the ankles. _We still have five minutes anyway, _he mused idly, closing his eyes and letting himself relax. 

A grunt near his ear broke the tranquility that he had settled into, a finger poked his back insistently. 

"Malfoy!" Blaise's voice hissed in his ear. Startled, Draco sat up abruptly in his chair, wincing as his knees throbbed from where they'd hit the desk. The other Slytherin boy sat back in his chair, silent now that he'd gotten Draco's attention. 

"Mr. Malfoy. Thank you for joining the class." Professor Snape hissed, raising a dark eyebrow at his student. He of course, did not take any points from his house.

"Now, today we'll be exploring the _Munimentum_ potion could someone tell me what it does?" Snape questioned the class, his narrowed eyes flitting around the room for a victim. 

"Weasley," Snape commanded, glaring at the red-haired boy. "Enlighten us." 

The snickers from the Slytherins could be heard in the palpable silence. 

"I don't know, Professor." Ron's voice came out harsh, short.

"Pity. Ten points from Gryffindor. Perhaps your friend, Mr. Longbottom, can answer the question," Snape's voice lowered to a smooth command. Everyone in the class turned to look at Neville Longbottom, who was shaking in his robes.

"I" Neville's voice cut off abruptly – he looked terrified as Snape leaned over and gave him a snide smile. 

"No? Twenty points from Gryffindor."

Draco could hear the Gryffindors murmuring in discontent. Suddenly, Hermione spoke up. "It's a protection potion, Professor. It protects against any harm or injury done to the person who ingested the potion. However, it only lasts for a two-hour period." 

Snape whirled upon the Gryffindor Prefect. "Correct but for speaking out of turn, ten points from Gryffindor." 

Hermione remained silent. Draco knew that she would know that it would be useless to argue with Professor Snape – unless you fancied losing more house points, which, at the moment was not a good idea, seeing that they'd already lost 50 points in five minutes. He turned back in his seat, fighting to hide his mirth. Within moments, Snape paired off the students, instructing them to create the potion carefully, or risk the consequences. Draco, unfortunately, was partnered with Hermione. 

She made her way towards him, her face pinched. Draco couldn't help but notice that she still looked at least marginally decent this way. He nearly kicked himself in the head for that assessment. _Granger? The Mudblood – decent?_ Draco was horrified at his thought. 

"I can't believe I'm stuck with you," Hermione muttered, discontentedly dumping several packets of powdered dragon teeth on the table. 

Draco took offence at this. "I'm less than happy about this arrangement as well, Granger." 

Hermione sighed. "We might as well learn to work together properly, Malfoy. After all, we've still got that History project to do as well."

Draco was silent for a moment. "Fine", he said regally, peering into the cauldron in front of him. 

They stayed subdued for the rest of the class, with only the occasional queries for a particular ingredient they needed. Draco settled with Hermione about the date of their next meeting for the History project – that night (Tuesday) after dinner. They, of course, created the potion correctly, and Snape awarded Draco ten points to Slytherin for making it right. Harry and Ron had been about to protest, of course, but Hermione had held them back – they'd lost enough points that day.

***

Hermione was surprised to see Draco in the library as she walked in. Harry had had Quidditch practice – he was captain and was obligated to show up – so he'd promised her he'd do extra research after dinner the next night. 

"I didn't expect you to be here already," she commented, finding it difficult to hide her surprise.

"Yes, well, you don't know me well enough to expect anything," he replied, his finger tracing just underneath the line that he was reading in the book. 

"You could try being more pleasant," Hermione snapped back, stung. She yanked out the chair beside him and sat down, her entire body radiating anger.

"Ah, but that was never one of Professor Binns' instructions," Draco drawled, not bothering to hide the hint of contempt in his voice. He glanced up at her for a moment before returning to his book.

She sighed but didn't reply. It was far better to ignore Draco and get work done than to sit and bicker. She pulled a book from the top of the pile he'd collected, then removed a roll of parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink from her bag.

Hermione was midway through the book when she heard Draco snap his book closed.

"This is honestly a waste of time," he stated, glaring at the pile of books. "Nothing interesting at all. My father's library contains much more interesting books than this."

She didn't want to admit it, but the books were rather dry and the prospect of far more fascinating books was appealing. "Could you get them, Malfoy?" she asked.

He turned to look at her, slightly surprised at her request. "Yes. Father can get them here within a day, possibly less."

"They're not about the Dark Arts, are they?"

Draco snorted. "Well, they contain everything, Granger, unlike these books here," he jerked his chin at the books on the table. He regarded her with startlingly stormy gray eyes, as if challenging her to comment about his family's supposed ties with the Dark Arts and Voldemort. She rose to his challenge.

"Well, I thought so," she paused for a moment. "After all, you're a Malfoy, and we're all aware what people have been saying about your family's ties to the Dark Arts, and that your library would be full of books about them."

"Making assumptions about my family, are you, **Mudblood**?" Draco sneered. "You're jumping to conclusions, Granger. I never said our WHOLE library had books that mentioned the Dark Arts."

Madame Pince's voice suddenly interrupted. "Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger. I would never have expected to hear the two of you speaking quite so loudly in my library!" Draco and Hermione turned to face the librarian, who stood behind them with her hands on her hips. Hermione apologized at once. I'm sorry, Madame Pince – it won't happen again."

Madame Pince gave her a curt nod. "Good." She turned and walked away.

Hermione glanced around. Luckily, no one was in the library to notice them arguing. However, she began to think it was odd that they were the only persons left within the large room. She glanced at her watch and realized why – it was already half-past nine, and they had a prefect meeting.

Hermione began to stuff her belongings back into her bag, while Draco stared up at her, taken aback by her rush.

"Going to meet your scarred boyfriend, Granger?" 

Hermione sighed. The snide undertones were back in Draco's smooth drawl. "No, Malfoy. In case you hadn't noticed, we're late for the prefect meeting."

Draco sat up, spine stiff. "You're serious?" 

She nodded.

"Shit", he swore, grabbing his schoolbag and like Hermione, began haphazardly stuffing various items into his bag – quills, parchments, even a small paperweight.

She didn't know why, but she felt compelled to wait for Malfoy, who was almost finished with his packing. "Hurry up!" she snapped, beginning to walk away.

"Why are you waiting, Granger?" he asked, almost curiously.

Hermione replied with the first excuse that came to her mind. Truthfully, she had no idea why she was waiting. "Umwe're going to the same place anyway."

Draco gave her an almost imperceptible nod of thanks as he walked up to where she was waiting, and they took off for the prefects meeting lounge together.

***

Harry had stayed behind after the Quidditch practice to get a few more laps in; the sensual caress of the bitter night air upon his skin never failed to calm any irritations or questions he had. He always lost himself in flight – flying was more of an instinct, a second nature to him, rather than a skill that had to be learned and developed. Tonight, the purpose of those extra laps in the bitter Scotland air was to rid himself of one thought – 3 months spent working on a project with Draco Malfoy.

Though a part of him felt extraordinarily guilty that he'd left Hermione alone to work and placate Draco, he also felt immensely relieved that he'd managed to escape with a Draco-free research day the following day. They'd constantly striven to best each other in everything, whether it was on the Quidditch pitch or in Snape's dungeons. 

Draco Malfoy had been a thorn in his side for six years and he wasn't about to forgive and forget for this project.

He wouldn't.

***

"Hermione!" Ron greeted her as she stepped through the portrait-hole into the Gryffindor common room. He sat, curled up before a roaring fire, playing exploding snap with Harry, who glanced up as she came in and gave her a heart-stopping grin. 

She had to admit that the two of them had matured nicely – though Ron grew taller every second, it seemed, and Harry's hair was as untidy as ever. She gazed at the two boys sprawled out before her, smiled ruefully, made her way over to them, and flopped down on another chair beside Ron.

Ron looked at her sympathetically. "Was it horrible?" he asked, obviously referring to her research session with Draco.

"It was all right," she said, choosing her words carefully. "He did offer to share some books from his personal library."

"And you accepted?!" Ron exclaimed, bolting upright from his slouched position on the chair, his exploding snap cards flying out of his hand; several began exploding on their way to the ground. 

"Well, a book's a book. Besides, since he'll be using them too, I doubt he'd want to choose anything that'd jeopardize us," Hermione stated, hoping to reassure herself as well as Ron and Harry. "Besides, we can always check for curses or hexes – we learned in third year, remember?"

Harry's green eyes looked worried as he looked up from his sprawled position on the plush burgundy and gold rug that covered the floor.

"I still wouldn't trust Malfoy," Ron grumbled, scrunching up his face in discontent. Hermione stifled laughter – his facial features looked entirely like those of Crookshanks, Hermione's half-kneazle, ginger-coloured cat.

Obviously Harry had the same thought. "You look like Crookshanks," he laughed, gazing over at the windowsill where Crookshanks lay fast asleep.

"Hey!" Ron exclaimed, only marginally offended. He picked up the remaining stack of Exploding Snap cards and proceeded to toss them over Harry, who was immediately caught in a rain of exploding cards.

Hermione burst out laughing, the project with Draco forgotten for the moment as she watched Harry shield himself from the explosions. Harry stood up, shaking the exploding cards off of him and brushing the last few off his shoulders. He was wearing a green jumper with a large H and a lion embroidered on it – a gift from Ron's mother, Molly Weasley, the previous Christmas.

"There. That's what you get for insulting my good looks," Ron preened, obviously mocking Draco as he pretended to fluff his flame red hair, and then breaking out into laughter.

"What good looks?" Harry asked innocently.

"Oh, you" Ron leapt at Harry, who darted out of the way with a Seeker's instincts and quick reflexes. Ron managed to catch himself on the arm of the chair Hermione was still occupying before he fell to the ground.

"You boys never grow up, do you?" Hermione asked, snickering behind her hand.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, and then back at Hermione with mirrored looks of horror.

"Grow up?" Ron echoed.

"Never." Harry grinned. He shot Ron a mischievous, secret smile, and before Hermione knew what was happening, her two best friends tackled her, nearly knocking the chair over, and tickling her until she couldn't breathe.

***

Draco finished writing, setting his quill down. He carefully folded the parchment and placed it in an envelope, then handed it to Prometheus, the Malfoy family Eagle Owl, and watched the owl fly off. 

He'd written to his father to ask him to send several volumes of books from the library for the project, deliberately telling his father that he was working with Harry and Hermione.

Brushing a stray strand of his pale-blond hair from his eyes, he sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. 

_Father's reply should come tomorrow_, he thought briefly, before his thoughts flickered to the research session that night. There were a couple of problems with the situation that night. One, Hermione had waited for him – and it had surprised him. No matter how much she hated him, she could still be polite, and that was something he hadn't expected. And two, he hadn't snapped at her that she was a mudblood and should go away. Cursing, Draco tried to wrench his thoughts away from his memories of their interaction and succeeded for the moment. 

***

Draco opened his eyes the next morning, awakened by the loud, incessant hoot of an owl outside his window. He didn't have to worry about his fellow Slytherins being awakened by the sound of his mail arriving – as a prefect, he'd been granted his own room. He opened the window, and Prometheus flew in on strong, silent wings, clutching a fairly large-sized parcel. He hooted indignantly at Draco, who threw Prometheus an owl treat. The owl hooted once and took off, treat clutched securely in his beak.

Draco seized the parcel; spying a letter stuffed under the strings that tied the package together, he removed that first and ripped the envelope open. His father, Lucius, had written a letter of instructions. He scanned the message, which filled less than a half of the page but contained vital information. It explained that there was one book in the parcel, Popular Spells and Curses in 18th Century France**,** that was not to be opened in his presence and should be given to Harry and Hermione as soon as possible. His father's letter ended, predictably, with several bolded words: **_Do Not Fail Me, Son_**. It was there almost every time he received a letter from his father – an obvious reminder of what awaited him in the future – Voldemort would never accept the shortcomings of a Death Eater. Draco placed the letter down on his quilt, and reached for a small, gilded pocketknife that he kept handy on the table beside his bed. Once in his hand, he flipped the blade out and sliced through the strings that kept the parcel together. He opened the box carefully, recognizing the first book as the one his father had described in his letter. He closed the flaps of the box, stood up, and began gathering his belongings for History of Magic, where he'd hand the box to Hermione.

***

Hermione was still sore from laughing hysterically the previous night; mostly from when Harry and Ron had tickled her.

"This is all your fault," she grumbled to Harry as the three of them walked to History of Magic together. 

Harry grinned at her, not bothering to hide his enjoyment of her complaints. 

"You're evil," she admonished Ron, who mockingly gasped a "who, me?"

She gave them her best McGonagall glare and harrumphed. They walked silently for a moment; suddenly Ron stopped and swore.

Hermione looked at him with alarm. "What?" she asked, concerned.

"I've forgotten the work I've done for the project in my room. Hold on, I'll be right back." Ron didn't wait for a reply as he took off back to Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione caught a glimpse of platinum blond hair from the corner of her eye and turned to face its owner. 

"Yes?" she asked, casting a wary look at Draco.

Draco thrust a half-opened box at her. "Here, these are the books."

Harry stepped forward to keep Draco from leaving, watching him warily for any possible tricks he might do, though it was highly doubtful, as he was still clutching the parcel.

Hermione frowned as she caught the title of the top book through the flaps. She flipped the flaps open and grabbed the book. She scanned the cover photo of a witch and wizard being cursed into a jewel. "Malfoy, is this"

She didn't notice Draco's eyes widening before she opened the cover. She felt something grabbing her, not unlike the feeling of travelling by portkey, and pulled her into the book. She couldn't see anything, merely pitch black, and that was the last she saw before she blacked out.

***

Draco groaned as he awoke, greeted by blurry vision, a splitting headache, and hard cobblestones digging into his body. He saw a black-haired lump stirring near him to his left and made out the blurry figure as Harry. He rubbed his eyes and squinted, his vision slowly clearing. He looked to his right and saw Hermione, who was already awake and was looking down at him with horror in her cinnamon eyes.

"Malfoy, you did this," she hissed, grabbing his robes – an easy reach considering she was merely inches away from him. 

"Did what?" Draco asked, still disoriented.

"Look", she pointed, and Draco cursed.

They were definitely not in Hogwarts anymore. The street was filled with women wearing a myriad of coloured dresses, some more tattered than the rest; children selling wares; and horse-drawn carriages rumbling through the streets. 

And then he heard someone speak.

"Je voudraistrois pommes, s'il vous plait." Draco's eyes widened. He listened to the chatter of a band of children that ran through the streets, chasing one another, and the general noises of his surroundings. These people were speaking **French**. All of them. They were in France. They had to be.

Draco swallowed.

"Oh, bollocks."

-------- To Be Continued -------

A/N: :: sigh :: done at last! This was a pretty lightweight chapter – emotionally and perhaps size-wise as well. Be prepared for darker times ahead for the not-so-intrepid trio of Harry, Hermione and Draco. Reviews are nice, very nice. :) Flames are also welcomed because I'll have much fun feeding the fire with them

Next Time: as Draco realizes what's happening, a more pressing issue emerges: Why are they in France and how do they get out? More will be discovered about the bookand darkness starts to fall and complexities will occur. It also appears that Hermione is going to get an aneurysm from yelling at Draco

Author's Soundtrack while writing Chapter One: (these are all very varied)

_Norah Jones_ – Norah Jones _Luminosa_ – Libera _Weathered_ – Creed _World of Our Own_ – Westlife And my _Vanessa Mae Mix_ CD. :) 

Thanks to my beta-reader – Winged Elf, for betaing, and being so nice and prompt! :) :: schnoogles :: and thanks again to Karei for listening to me go over the plotline for this Trilogy:) :: hugs :: to you! :)

See you soon

_Au Revoir!_

Misako (8.7.02)


	2. And When Darkness Falls

The Time Imperative

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Chapter Two – And When Darkness Falls…

Title: The Time Imperative (2/13)

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Author **Name**: Misako

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Author **Email**: cleopatra0705@yahoo.com

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Category: Action/Adventure/Romance 

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Keywords: Draco Hermione Harry Time Travel

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Rating: R

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Spoilers: PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, FB, QTTA 

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Summary: A history project and a fateful spell contained within a book send Draco, Hermione and Harry back to 18th Century France, where they have three months to find the item that will send them back to their own time. But during the months leading up to the French Revolution, they are quickly trapped in a cycle of deceit, love, and death.

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Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. 

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Author's Note: Thanks to **Carrie**, who's such a darling - I loff her - excellent preliminary beta, she is. (ode to Yoda) She gave me the "nemesis" line during an IM conversation. :) It's because of her that this chapter has taken so long - we decided together that the first draft was far too blunt. Perhaps it'll be released someday for all to laugh at. :D **Plu **(whom I loff), for coding TTI1 and just always being there; **Melissa**, for being "evil" (for WAHP13/14) and also being duly supportive - I loff you too. :) Also thanks to **WingedElf** for betaing again - you're so good at it! :) I also don't feel like putting anything in French accents, or making whole conversations in French, so when they're speaking French, it'll be noted with a "Hermione said in French" or something to that nature. 

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Archival: This can be archived anywhere - just contact me and ask!

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Chapter Summary: Harry, Hermione and Draco have arrived in Paris, France. It's October 2nd, 1789, and though the streets seem relatively normal, they are deceptively so. Draco helps them with accommodations for the time being – but this arrangement doesn't look like it's going to last long…

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The Time Imperative

Chapter Two: And When Darkness Falls… 

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October 2, 1789

Paris, France 

"Bollocks is an understatement, Malfoy," Hermione snapped crossly, glaring at the Slytherin, who still lay sprawled on the ground. The activity of the marketplace still proceeded around them as if they couldn't be seen at all. This, of course, was immediately disproved as a child threw a small rock at her. It struck her hand and glanced off. "Ow!" she snatched up her hand. "Blasted brat," she murmured discontentedly. 

A black-haired bundle to the other side of Draco began to stir and Hermione got up from the ground, dusting off her robes as she did.

"Harry, are you ok?" she asked as she stepped over Draco and knelt down beside the disoriented Gryffindor.

"Ugh…yeah, I'm all right Hermione." He removed his glasses for a moment and rubbed his eyes. His emerald eyes widened after he replaced his glasses upon his nose. "Hermione, where are we?" She watched him as his eyes roamed over the marketplace and the buildings that loomed up around them.

Hermione bit her lower lip. "In France."

Harry sat up abruptly, groaning as he did, eyes wide open. "In FRANCE?" His mouth sagged open in shock; hands braced almost painfully on the cobblestone-paved streets.

"I think so…"

"Why are we in France?" Harry asked, his face chalk-white with surprise. 

"Malfoy," Hermione answered, turning to glower at Draco, who sat, watching the two of them with a wary glint in his silver irises.

"Malfoy? I should've figured," Harry growled. He searched his robes for a moment, and to his relief, found his wand. He hoisted himself up and stalked off towards Draco; Hermione followed close behind. He paid no attention to the dusty state of his robes, or to the curious stares he received from passers-by.

"This is all your doing, Malfoy," he spat at the Slytherin, who merely gazed up at Harry. He appeared to be surprisingly calm for a person who was cornered with a wall to his back and an angry wand-wielding schoolmate before him, he hadn't even made a sharp reply to Harry's accusation.

"Apparently so. Granger's been telling me that since I woke up." The clarity of his voice belied the anxiety that shadowed his eyes.

Draco sighed and got up, dusting the back of his robes off. Hermione spotted a small rectangular object off at the corner of her vision, and she left Draco and Harry for a moment to retrieve it. She hoped that Harry wouldn't hex Draco while she had her back turned. She was surprised at the thought. _Why did I hope **Harry **wouldn't hex **Draco**? Shouldn't I be worried about the opposite?_ She shook her head picked up the book. All thoughts of Harry versus Draco flew out of her head as she recognized the picture on the cover. It was the book that she'd taken from Draco's parcel. She brought it back to the two boys, who were now glaring at each other; Draco no longer appeared calm and composed, and he too, had his wand out and was pointing it at Harry. She thrust the book in Draco's face.

"This is it, isn't it? What was in it? What curse?" she demanded, cinnamon eyes assessing the blond's steely-gray gaze.

"I don't know," Draco replied stiffly, glaring at her.

"You **do** know," Hermione insisted.

"It's your book," Harry snapped.

"I DIDN'T KNOW!" Draco yelled. He squeezed past Hermione and Harry and began stalking down the street.

Harry and Hermione ran after him. "It's your book - you should know how to get us out of here," Hermione accused as she forcefully turned Draco to look at her. She was frustrated at his lack of cooperation - only Draco could be against assisting fellow schoolmates while stranded in France. 

"I told you, I don't know!" Draco spat at her, fury emanating from him in perceptible waves. "Don't you get it? Sod off!"

Hermione paused in her pursuit. It was the confusion in his voice that wasn't right. 

"Not so much without your henchmen, aren't you?" Harry asked calmly, though one look at him betrayed his emotions - he was seething.

"That's what you said to me first year, Potter," Draco sneered, attempting to shake off Hermione who had grabbed his sleeve. "Insults are most certainly NOT your forte."

"You're not going ANYWHERE, Malfoy," she told him, one hand clutching his sleeve, the other clutching her wand.

"We need to work together to get out of here, Malfoy," Hermione insisted. Draco would never make it if they left him in France without any knowledge of the language or the customs. Harry had his wand out as well, trained towards Draco.

"I will NOT stay with 'Potty and his Mudblood,'" Draco yanked his sleeve out of her grasp. 

"Impedimenta!" 

"Good one, Hermione," Harry smiled grimly as they looked at Draco, who would've been glaring at them if he hadn't been out cold and sprawled upon the rough cobblestone street.

She was bewildered by her actions - helping Malfoy - nonetheless, but she was sure that leaving him behind would be something that he would do to them, and she wasn't ready to stoop to his level. Harry might, and Ron definitely would, but she prided herself on resolving conflicts, not beginning them.

"Mobilicorpus," she commanded, leveling her wand at Draco, who slowly began to rise from the ground. It was like what Professor Lupin had done in their third year, under the Whomping Willow. 

Harry assessed her with a keen eye. "I don't suppose the Ministry can take away our wands for using magic illegally, seeing as we're underage." He looked around and several people had begun to look their way.

"Celoare!" Harry said, and immediately Draco's prone body vanished from sight.

Hermione smiled tersely. "I think they'll make an exception for students who were just magically transported to France."

Harry followed close behind as they began to walk down the street; Hermione shoved the book in a pocket of her robe and kept her wand steady on Draco's levitating body where it would've been ahead of her. 

***

The book lay on Hermione's lap, appearing as ordinary as any other book, if any other book had such a gruesome cover picture. Harry had complained that he'd needed a rest, so they'd stopped off by the side of a street and Hermione had taken the chance to examine the book further. Draco was still secreted away under Harry's spell, and neither she nor Harry wanted to deal with the Slytherin just then. She tentatively reached her right hand towards the cover, fingers trembling as she felt the smooth texture of the book beneath her fingers. She winced as she flipped the cover open, expecting to be thrown to Ancient Rome. Silence greeted her, and she sighed. Careful script filled the title page - a poem. She leaned over to read the words written in an elegant hand and black ink. Her eyes skimmed over the poem; blanching, she slammed the cover shut.

*** 

They had stopped at a boulangerie for food, and Hermione had placed Draco in a chair on the outdoor terrace. Harry had removed his spell disguising Draco; he'd been watching him carefully every since. She went in to talk to the man who worked inside as Harry watched over Draco. 

They'd been sitting for fifteen minutes when Draco opened his eyes slowly and was immediately greeted by the sight of Harry Potter. 

Harry's brilliant green eyes, so tortured on occasion, were riveted on Draco, mistrust swimming in their depths. His raven dark hair seemed to be perpetually messy, and a body tempered by years of Quidditch remained lean but strong. He was no stranger to women throwing themselves at him - as Hermione had once joked, they seemed to seep out of the woodwork. Harry, however, remained restrained towards his admirers - he'd always chosen his friends carefully. There were far too many out there who'd only use him to exploit his fame and to shatter his spirit. 

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Well, isn't this a lovely sight to wake up to? Draco thought crossly, sitting up abruptly. He saw Harry's hand flash to his robe, where his wand must've been placed.

"Relax, Potter," he commanded, raising an eyebrow at Harry. He raised a hand to brush back a stray strand of hair and Harry had to visibly restrain himself from impulsively grabbing his wand.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry snapped back irritably, his hand still lingering over his wand. "It wasn't my idea to bring you along, anyway." He looked sullen and annoyed as he spoke.

Draco couldn't resist the opportunity to rile Harry up. "Right, so Granger knocked me out so she could get some, because that would be the only way she would get any," Draco smirked.

"Don't say things like that about Hermione. She's intelligent, funny, and rather pretty, if you'd bother to look past your prejudices and look at her without the title of 'Mudblood,'" Harry spat out, glaring at Malfoy. His chest rose and fell with his every breath, and Harry angrily raked a long-fingered hand through his hair. 

Draco scrutinized Harry for a moment, then let out a choked laugh. "You like her."

Harry turned red. "I do not!" he protested vehemently. He glared at Draco as if daring him to object. Draco glared back, a self-satisfied smirk cutting across his features. 

"You wouldn't turn ten shades of red if you didn't." 

"You don't even know me well enough to judge, Malfoy," Harry replied, sidestepping Draco's accusation. He seemed uncomfortable and he glanced over at the doorway of the Boulangerie, keeping his eyes well averted from Draco's. 

"Where is Granger, anyway?" Draco asked offhandedly, noticing her absence from Harry's side. It too a concentrated effort to strangle the urge he felt in his stomach to get up and look for Hermione. 

Harry gestured towards the door that lay a few feet to their right. "We're at a boh-lan-geh-ree, a bakery, I guess. She's in there." 

Draco rolled his eyes at Harry's mispronunciation. "It's BOU-LAN-GER-IE, Potter. Get your French straight." He was pleased that Harry had never been educated in languages - it kept Harry from being more incredible than people already thought he was like. 

"How would you know, Malfoy? You don't even speak French. You must've just picked that up from your two bodyguards - all they do is eat anyway - it would only be suitable that they'd know the French name for a bakery," Harry retorted angrily, leaning slightly over the table in an obvious attempt to intimidate Draco. 

"You don't know me well enough to judge, Potter," Draco mimicked. "I speak fluent French."

Harry snorted. Draco looked slightly put off, but still smug in the knowledge that he was far better at French than Harry would ever be. Just then Hermione came out the door, quietly speaking in French with a portly man wearing an apron. She looked distinctly scared, the first time Draco had ever seen her that way.

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What happened to the infamous Gryffindor bravery? he wondered, watching her as her hands gripped her robes so tightly that when she released the material, he could see the half-moon impressions of her nails on her palms.

"She speaks French?" Draco asked unnecessarily. 

"Yes, fluently, Malfoy. She used to go to spend her summer vacations in France." 

Hermione stopped at their table, still chatting with the baker. "Merci, monsieur." She smiled shakily and gave the man two kisses on his cheeks. The man smiled and went back inside his shop, and she looked down at the two of them.

"Harry," she said tersely, "I think I just got that man to give us some food for free - it was difficult, but I did it. He said his wife would be happy to help travelers, even if they themselves are low on food."

Draco thought the baker and his wife seemed oddly helpful for people who did not have enough to sustain themselves, not to mention perfect strangers. 

Hermione looked pale, but still smiled brightly at Harry. Draco noticed that her smile was forced - he recognized the façade that he often wore when he was with his father in his dealings with Voldemort. 

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Her hair was wildly tangled and her robes were somewhat creased, but she still looked presentable. She had grown up nicely into a poised young woman - more experienced in all senses of the term. She was no stranger to the affections of young men, though she usually shunned them in favour of her studies, the one thing that hadn't changed since their childhood days. Draco scrutinized her expression for a moment, and for some odd reason, felt an urge to soothe her and to tell her not to worry. He scolded himself for the thought and wondered if the curse had temporarily impaired his ability to think logically. 

"Mais, mademoiselle," Draco spoke, his French accented perfectly. "Tu parles Français?"

Hermione cast him a surprised look. "Oui," she replied. "Malfoy, where did you learn to speak French? You have a fantastic accent."

"My family's from France," Draco replied, his voice carrying only a tinge of arrogance. He could see Harry out of the corner of his eye, looking annoyed at the fact that obviously Draco and Hermione could share conversations in a language he couldn't understand. 

Hermione looked marginally impressed. She swallowed heavily and took a breath before she spoke. "Um, Malfoy, does your family happen to be in France in the year 1789?"

Draco blinked. "1789?" His mouth gaped open slightly and his hands gripped the wooden table so hard his knuckles turned white. He recovered quickly, closing his mouth, but disbelief still lurked beneath the stormy gray gaze. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. 

Hermione watched him closely. "The baker says it's the year 1789. Hold on," she pulled out the book from her pocket. "You gave us this book," she began. "It must be a curse I've never heard of a time-travelling charmed book before," she frowned.

"This is your fault, Malfoy," Harry automatically condemned, obviously still shocked. He seemed to only be fixating upon accusing Draco. Harry's face expressed all his emotions of shock and anger - Draco could see trouble brewing beneath the surface, festering. Harry began reaching for his wand, which lay close to him, the ash brown of the wood contrasting with the golden lacquered wooden table. 

"Wait, Harry," Hermione said, holding up a hand, her attention trained on Draco. "You look surprised, Malfoy. Did you really know about this?"

"Of course he knew," Harry spat, disdain for the blond Slytherin clear on his face. He thrust his wand in Draco's face. "Tell us what you know or you'll learn what death really feels like."

"You don't have the nerve, Potter," Draco responded, shaking his head.

Harry glared at him, his eyes seeming to spark angrily with green flames.

"Don't I?" he asked quietly, deadly.

Hermione had paled, her chocolate eyes wide. Her gaze was imploring; she seemed to be pleading for him to speak. She knew what Harry had experienced the last time he'd fallen into Voldemort's hands, and the resentment and anger he harboured towards all that were associated with Voldemort.

Draco steeled himself and spoke.

"I only knew part of it. My father just told me give you the book, but not to be present when you opened it. I don't know exactly what was in the book, though."

"He's lying," Harry growled, shaking his head, distrust clear in his eyes. He ran a shaky hand through his hair.

"I don't think so, Harry," Hermione responded, opening the book carefully and turning it so they could see a neatly scripted passage written inside the front cover. "Listen to this:"

She began to read the passage aloud; her voice trembled slightly as she spoke.

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"Those who trespass on the path of time

Will only find this rhyme

Those who are worthy shall find

A perilous journey through a perilous time

To find the key back to their time."

She frowned. "It says that only those who are worthy will be able to get back to their time," she pressed her lips together in thought.

Harry growled. "That doesn't tell us much. Besides, Malfoy's not worthy - maybe we can leave the bastard here."

"I object," Draco replied imperiously, his gray eyes narrowing. "I am worthy."

"We have to get home," Hermione interjected. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "And it'd be better if we stay together."

"You're always agreeing and helping Malfoy these days!" Harry exploded, rocketing out of his chair, and yelling at Hermione, who was clearly taken aback. "It's his fault we're here in the first place!"

Hermione stared at Harry for a few moments, gazing upward at her irate friend. They watched each other for a moment, Harry breathing audibly with his hands on his hips, his wand clasped in his right hand; knuckles white. Hermione pursed her lips and responded carefully. 

"Harry, it's actually both Malfoy's fault, and mine," Hermione rationalized, attempting to subdue Harry. "I asked if he would bring those books, didn't I? And it's not as if he knew what was contained within the book."

Draco looked at her for a moment, watching as she tried to reason with Harry. _She **helped** me?_ He thought, both appalled and somewhat pleasantly surprised. He attempted to dismiss the thought. _I shouldn't be pleased that she helped me, she's a **Mudblood**. _But some part of him protested at his thoughts. _She's perfectly nice, you know._ Draco forcefully shoved the thought away and swore at himself. 

When he had finally won over his inner voice, Harry and Hermione had stopped arguing and Harry had gone sat back down in his chair to sulk. Draco assumed Hermione had won the argument. He opened his mouth, but hesitated. 

"Yes?" Hermione asked, her expression displaying her exhaustion. 

"My family lives in Paris, if you'd want to go there," Draco offered hesitantly. His gaze caught with Hermione's but he looked away, a slight flush rising to his cheeks, two small dabs of pinkish tinge high on his cheekbones.

He could see Hermione's surprised face beside him, and he turned away. He didn't want to see her happy to see that even Draco Malfoy could help someone if he was desperate enough.

"Are you helping us?" Harry asked, dumbfounded. His jade green eyes were wide open in surprise. A hint of suspicion laced his voice, but he didn't express any of his concerns. 

"Don't expect me to make a habit of it, Potter,"

"Thank you, Malfoy," Hermione replied, smiling at him. He glanced at her for a moment as she spoke. "The man said that we're in Paris. Just tell us where to go, and I'll ask him to provide directions."

"Near Versailles - it's called the 'Chateau de Foi'."

She smiled again at him. "Thank you." 

He didn't want to acknowledge her gratitude. There were several things he'd always hated about Gryffindors. One, was that they pretty much always managed to end up on top. Two, they could show loyalty in other ways than banding together and having their arms branded with Dark Marks. Three, they could always show every part of them, even their vulnerable side, and not be denounced as a radical. If anyone in Slytherin had even made a single polite comment, not only would everyone be shocked, they'd also be angry. They'd been brought up to be nasty, and the house expressed that expectation. Everyone **expected** Slytherins to be sly and cunning. They **expected** Slytherins to be bad, to be solely interested in the Dark Arts. Not everyone was like that, but no matter how much power you had, you couldn't express yourself in any other ways other than snide comebacks, clever plans, and trickery. No one was allowed to be openly nice to a Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or even a Gryffindor. Draco prided himself on the ideals of loyalty and cunning. He didn't acquiesce to the ideas of Voldemort killing, and in Harry's case, attempting, to kill innocent children. 

He had morals, but of course, no one would ever know that. 

***

Harry was surprised by Draco's offer. He could only assume that Draco's offer was to provide shelter. He only hoped that the Malfoy's of 1789 were less zealous than their modern day counterparts.

***

Hermione smiled to herself as she walked back into the boulangerie. She never could've guessed that the Slytherin would ever help his sworn adversaries. She paused as she waited for the corpulent man to finish talking to another customer. Hermione relaxed, leaning against a glass display case and sighed. Draco had alleviated her primary concern of shelter. Perhaps there was more to him than anyone had thought. 

Regardless of what everyone at Hogwarts may have thought, she was a girl, and she was aware that Draco Malfoy was attractive. He'd grown from the scrawny pale, pointy-faced git into something else entirely. Usually his steely-gray eyes were filled with contempt; blond hair perfectly in place; clad in standard black Hogwarts robes. But even she hadn't been able to keep herself from sneaking glances at Draco during Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch games. He had a lithe form that was perfect for his position as seeker, though he'd grown considerably and was now rather tall. He constantly strived to gain the perfection that his father demanded of him - both on the Quidditch Pitch and off. Hermione could empathize with this aspect of the Slytherin, due to her own craving to be at the top of all activities that were offered. 

Draco had seemed to have matured further during the summer holiday - his voice had deepened to the low timbre that was reminiscent of another aristocratic blond - Prince William. He seemed to be more complex than anyone seemed to know. She remembered the conversations that Lavender and Parvati had had at the beginning of the term - long discourses dedicated to either Harry or Draco.

"Ah! Mademoiselle Granger!" the baker smiled as she spotted her, his voice shaking her out of her thoughts.

"Monsieur Lemieux," she responded politely, once again greeting the man with the customary _bises**, **_or kisses, upon his plump cheeks. He seemed like a French Santa Clause. She giggled at the mental image that accompanied the thought. 

They spoke for several minutes, where he assured her that the bread would be finished soon.

"Merci, Monsieur," she thanked him. She asked him for directions to the Chateau de Foi.

The smile faded from Monsieur Lemieux's face. He spoke rapidly in French, his voice contemptuous. "Ah. Aristocrats," he spat on the ground. "Why do you keep company from a person who has family there?"

Hermione paused, contemplating his words. She responded carefully, aware that she couldn't come up with an excuse as to why they'd helped Draco. "I just feel I should."

Monsieur Lemieux sighed. "It's just a thirty minute ride from here. You'll just need to call for a carriage. I will assist you in finding one,"

"Merci,"

A slender blonde woman bustled from the kitchen, her skirts swirling. She clutched several cloth bundles in her hands, and held them out to Hermione.

She spoke in French, her voice lilting. "Good luck to you, Mademoiselle,"

"Merci, Madame," Hermione took the bundles from her. There were three, and each was filled with hot, steaming bread. Her mouth watered at the scent. She kissed the woman twice and smiled thankfully at the couple. 

"I will help you find a carriage now," Monsieur Lemieux said, though he sounded a bit unwilling. 

They walked out of the Boulangerie, and Monsieur Lemieux waited patiently as Hermione informed Harry and Draco as to how they'd be reaching the Chateau de Foi.

"At least be civil," she told them; Harry and Draco had begrudgingly agreed.

It was only a moment before they were packed in a simple wooden carriage, a single bay coloured horse pulling them away to the Chateau de Foi. A simple unacknowledged truce holding their destiny in its fragile creation. 

***

The chateau loomed out from the wide expanse of land, a cream coloured monolith. Their carriage pulled through a highly embellished iron and gold gate, which two footmen opened smoothly. Even they were clad splendidly with silver and green dressings. The chateau itself was magnificent, several stories tall with ornate decorations upon i's exterior and with grandeur that indicated the Malfoys' place in society. Massive French doors displayed the Malfoy family coat of arms proudly upon its exterior. There were footmen located there as well, dressed identically to the ones that had opened the gate.

The carriage rumbled along the dusty golden carriage path, heading directly for the front doors. On each side, ornately styled gardens rose from either side, bright flowers peeped through a sea of green. There was a fountain on either side, both of a nude Aphrodite with water streaming from a shell she held in her hands. 

Hermione gazed at the imposing building, her mouth slightly open in wonder.

"Well, it certainly looks different," Draco murmured beside her.

She turned toward him, curiosity clear in her eyes. "It's different?" she asked.

Draco glanced at her. "I suppose my family's … redecorated quite extensively over the centuries." 

Hermione opened her mouth to ask, "how has it changed?" but stopped short as the carriage halted before the pristine white marble stairs. A footman had appeared beside the carriage and opened the door, his silver-gloved hand appearing to assist their descent from the carriage. She stepped down from the carriage and gaped as her vision was assaulted with the splendor of the chateau. Harry raised an eyebrow at the footman, but allowed the man to assist him. Draco emerged last, and he immediately began walking up the stairs towards the doors. Harry followed closely behind him, and Hermione allowed herself one last glance before following the two up the stairs. The doormen stood silently as Draco grasped the large brass circle and banged it several times on the wooden door. The door opened almost immediately, and a young woman stood before them. Her blonde hair was pulled back, and a cascade of shimmering curls fell past her shoulders. She glanced at them disdainfully, eyeing their foreign clothes. 

"Names, please," she asked sharply in French.

Draco stepped forward. "Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy."

The woman appeared to be taken aback by his last name, but she gave a curt nod and opened the door wider for them to enter. She motioned for them to halt and she closed the door, quickly walking past them and disappearing into an adjoining room. 

"Well, she was rude," Hermione stated, her right hand on her hip.

Harry opened his mouth to respond but shut it as the blonde woman reappeared with a tall blond man. His blond hair, gray eyes, and imperious attitude immediately identified him as a Malfoy.

The woman inclined her head at them, and spoke in French to the man. The man's gaze fell upon each of them one by one, his gaze lingering on Draco the longest.

He spoke to them in French while holding out his arm for the young woman to straighten his sleeve. Hermione rolled her eyes as the blond woman sprang forward to assist the man.

"If you're a Malfoy, you can open that door."

Hermione frowned. _A door that only a Malfoy can open? Perhaps it requires Malfoy blood to open - similar to a specifically tuned Portkey, I suppose. _Harry tugged on her sleeve, obviously upset that he was left out of the conversation. Draco calmly walked over to the door, and after a moment's hesitation, grasped the knob, twisted it, and pulled the door open.

The man merely raised an eyebrow in response. "All right, you've proven yourself." He gestured at himself, the ruffles on the cuffs of his shirt fluttering as he did. "I am Francois Malfoy. I am the head of the Malfoy household."

Draco looked pointedly at the young woman who stood behind Francois, and Francois turned to regard the girl with a heavy-lidded gaze. 

"That is Catherine," 

Draco nodded. "Would you spare several rooms for myself and my companions?"

Francois looked at Draco suspiciously. "I have never heard of a Malfoy with your name - and yet, your ability to open the door confirms you as such. Who are you?"

Harry coughed to gain Hermione's attention, curious as to what was being said in the exchange between the Malfoy's. Hermione relayed the situation to Harry. Francois turned his head to look at them and glared. 

Francois turned back to Draco. "Your…companions," he disdainfully stated. "Speak English. Are you spies for England?" 

Draco appeared offended. "Most certainly not. We are merely travelers."

"Then answer my question, impertinent youngster: Who are you?"

Draco quipped in French. "If you really want to know, I'm your relative from two hundred years in the future, and these are two of my arch nemesis. Nemesi? We are looking for lodging."

Francois glared at Draco and straightened himself up to appear taller, though in truth Draco dwarfed him by several inches. "You are lying. By lying, you are disrespecting me, and therefore you will not be granted lodging."

Hermione bit her lip, worrying the flesh with her teeth.

Draco smiled smugly. "According to rule #14 of the Malfoy Code, you may not refuse lodging to another Malfoy."

Francois narrowed his eyes. "I may not refuse lodging to you, but I may refuse lodging to your companions."

"You wouldn't dare!" Hermione exclaimed in French, catching the occupants of the room by surprise.

"It is my house, and I will do as I please, girl," Francois sneered. He withdrew a small stone from his pocket and threw it at Hermione. She caught it out of reflex, and nearly dropped it as it glowed red. Francois glared at her. "Give the stone to the other boy," he commanded, jerking his head toward Harry. Hermione hesitated but gave the stone to Harry when Francois removed a wand from his pocket and pointed it at her. Harry took the stone and watched as it glowed blue. Francois smirked. "You, girl, are a Muggle-born. You are a Mudblood." He looked at Harry. "You, boy, you have Muggle blood somewhere in your family."

Hermione glared at Francois. "Don't call us that."

"You don't want to trifle with a Malfoy, girl."

Another voice interrupted the argument. "Father." 

Everyone turned to look at the direction of which the voice had come from. A young woman stood on a nearby stairway, her blonde hair piled atop her head and crowned with a diamond tiara. Her features were delicate, and she too, had the traditional gray Malfoy eyes. Her long lavender gown swept the floor, her waist pulled in by a corset, and a white fan was clasped in her white-gloved hands. 

"Victoire," Francois greeted.

"Father, let them stay," Victoire said, slowly descending down the stairs. 

"But they are not purebloods," Francois frowned.

"They will do us no harm," Victoire replied, halting on the next to last step.

"You have Seen it?" Francois asked, walking forward and holding out his hand for his daughter to take. Victoire grasped his hand and descended the remaining stairs, her gray eyes assessing Harry, Hermione and Draco. 

"Yes, Father, I have Seen it."

Hermione turned to look at Draco. "She is an Oracle?"

Draco nodded. "Victoire Malfoy was an Oracle."

Harry frowned. "What's an Oracle?"

Hermione turned to him and sighed. "Honestly, Harry. Don't you ever listen in class? An Oracle can tell the future."

Harry nodded. "I remember now - like the Oracle at Delphi,"

"Yes, she was particularly famous,"

Francois sighed. He turned to them, still grasping his daughter's hand. "I will defer to my daughter on this one. If you do not incite any illegal actions, you may stay."

Draco nodded. "Thank you."

Victoire smiled at him. "You are a Malfoy - you cannot remain in those clothes." She removed a small silver bell from a small purse she carried on her waist and rang it. The sound rang throughout the immense house, and within a moment, several young women had appeared, including Catherine, bowing to Victoire one by one as they stepped into the room.

"I would like our guests to be bathed and clothed."

"Yes, mademoiselle."

Francois turned and left the room swiftly, the heels on his boots striking the floor sharply.

Draco, Hermione and Harry were swept up by the maids and hurried upstairs into several separate bathrooms, with Draco complaining loudly that he didn't want to be washed by someone else.

***

Hermione stepped out of the large marble bathtub and wrapped a soft towel around her body. She padded across the room and opened the door into the adjoining bedroom where her maid was waiting. She was told to enter the bedroom and wait while the maid retrieved clothes for her to wear. The maid reappeared several moments later, nearly hidden behind swaths of pale blue skirts and jewels. Hermione winced as she glimpsed the corset and the heavy gown. It took nearly an hour for Hermione to get dressed, her waist tucked in severely by the corset and her body weighed down by the gown. Her chestnut hair had been curled and swept up, pinned into place by several jewel-studded clips. The maid finally allowed her to turn and look at herself in a nearby mirror, and she gasped. It was like nothing she had ever worn before, and although it required far too much effort, Hermione had to agree that she looked splendid.

She turned to the maid gratefully. "Thank you."

The maid smiled, nodding. "Your blond-haired friend is ready, as well."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "He isn't my friend."

The maid frowned, "But -"

"He's a companion. But I would love to see him at the moment." Hermione snickered as she envisioned Draco swathed in heavy brocade breeches like Francois had been. 

The maid smiled. "He is though there." She gestured to a paneled door to her right that Hermione had not noticed before. Hermione thanked the maid again and took several unsteady steps towards the door. She reached the door, opened it and stepped through, and nearly collapsed in laughter as she saw Draco, wearing a silver and gold embroidered brocade jacket in a deep green, along with brocade breeches, a high-collared shirt, high socks, and buckled shoes.

Draco turned to her and stared for a moment. "You look…nice." A flicker of admiration briefly crossed his face, but it was gone before Hermione could wonder why. 

Hermione smiled sweetly. "Yes, I do, don't I?"

Draco glared at his outfit. "These pants are ugly." Hermione burst out laughing.

"Well, the colours suit you," 

"Yes, well," Draco glanced at the diamond buckles on his shoes and scowled.

Hermione merely laughed harder, clutching her abdomen as she fought for air to breathe. 

"It's not funny," Draco snapped, pulling at an embroidered sleeve.

"Yes, it is."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but was cut off as the door slammed open and Harry stomped in, half-dressed with a maid trailing behind him, holding a shirt with an impossibly ruffled collar.

Draco's lips twitched at the corners and he burst out laughing, doubling over and pointing at Harry, who scowled.

Harry turned to Hermione. "Tell her I don't want to wear that," he gestured, waving at the ruffled shirt clutched in the maid's hand.

Hermione covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. Harry was wearing brocade breeches, like Draco, except they were blue and embroidered with gold thread and didn't match his colouring at all. His upper body was bare; his hair tousled and going every which way. Hermione turned to the maid and spoke quietly, instructing her to find another shirt for Harry.

Harry looked at Hermione and he smiled. "You look nice, Hermione,"

She pirouetted for him, attempting to move beneath the constricting fabric. "Thanks, Harry."

"I -" Harry was cut off as the maid grabbed his hand and promptly dragged him from the room, leaving Hermione gaping after their quick departure.

"That was certainly not Potter's colour," Draco smirked from the bed, obviously over his laughing fit. 

"I think it was rather nice," Hermione said, automatically defending Harry.

"I think I look better than him."

"You would, wouldn't you?" Hermione answered. 

"Yes, of course. These are Malfoy colours. The blue on him just clashes with everything."

Hermione smiled. "I think you both look nice."

Draco raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well, I can be diplomatic," Hermione replied, grinning. Her smile faded as she realized that this had been the first time that she'd ever had a polite conversation with Draco, much less having one while alone with him. She was surprised that Draco could even be this pleasant. It occurred to her that the blond Slytherin had more secrets than he alluded to.

-------- To Be Continued -------

A/N: I apologize for the extensive delay - the amount of work from school was more than I anticipated so it took me a while to regain the time to write properly. This was partially written while I was on vacation, and during that time, I watched E! Entertainment's Royalty A-to-Z miniseries week, where I discerned that Prince William has a VERY nice voice, and thus wanted Draco to be in possession of a similar voice. You can thank E! for distracting me as well and keeping me from writing properly. :) Also, the Malfoy door seems similar to Cassie's trapdoor (DD) but my idea was not based off that. You can also blame Carrie for being far too good of a pre-betaer who agreed with me when I told her the first draft of TTI2 was far too blunt and horrible. I hope this is much better. I still have the old version, and it may just be put up somewhere to scare the shit out of little kiddies later. :D 

Thanks to everyone for their support and reviews!

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On FF.N: **Elmo** (Thank you so much!), **Tess **(Here's the next, much delayed, chapter. I apologize, and I hope you enjoy it!), **merryday** (Here's the next chapter - enjoy!), **musical-me** (thanks for the review!)**, Jaiasa **(chainsaw? To my poor Draco? :: gasps :: LOL.), **shadowcat7130** (lucius books are certainly suspicious. :D), **Caitriona Briana **(Thank you. I have to finish TTI before I start on the second part, Aeternus Lentum, which, sadly for me, is 30 chapters!), **Sheron **(Now, I suppose! I apologize profusely for the delay), **Angela Jewell** (I'm so glad you enjoyed it! Here's TTI2!)

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On FictionAlley: **lilahp** (Thank you! Malfoy…twisted and evil…maybe. :D), **Polegara** (gasp! There's potential! Augh! Now I have something to prove! LOL. I hope so too…:D), **Plumeria **(I answered all your questions on the first page of reviews. :D), **QuidditchChick01** (I feel so honoured. :: schnoogles ::), **Isalena **(yes, well, don't worry. Harry and Draco will have their own issues, and Ron makes his grand return in the sequel!), **Unregistered** (You'll have to see…:D), **J-Kid** (Thank you! :D), **Queen Queso **(Thank you so much for your review! I'm please to present the MUCH delayed TTI2, and I will be emailing you for chapter updates. And I like writing alternate endings/scenes, so I may just do that. :D), **Wookat** (Thanks for reviewing! :D I'm not telling what ship this'll end up yet…Shh!).

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Others: **Carrie** (You ARE MY SAVIOUR! I loff you, you excellent writer/pre-betaer!)

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Next Time: Marie Antoinette has an interesting secret to reveal, Draco is angry at his family, Hermione consoles him, and some snogging occurs. Between who? _"I'll never tell…"_. :: grin ::

Author's Soundtrack while writing Chapter Two: (these are all very varied)

_The Spirit Room _– Michelle Branch _The Red Violin_ – The Red Violin OST feat. Joshua Bell _Surfacing_ – Sarah McLachlan _Gladiator - _Gladiator OSTs _The Distance to Here_ - Live Various songs from WinMX 

See you soon…

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Au Revoir!

Misako (11.11.02)


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